There is a phenomenon in which some skeevy lowlife steals a title and often a manuscript from a published book and re-publishes them on Amazon in his own account, trying to fool readers into buying his “edition” of the story and stealing royalties from the author.
Most of the time, though, they do a better job of matching a more plausible cover.
I listen to a fair number of audiobooks, mostly because I spend a ridiculous amount of time in the car and reading a paperback while driving is both illegal and stupid. Audiobooks keep me alert and entertained. I listen mostly to fiction, but I also enjoy audio non-fiction and some recorded lectures, especially if I’m researching for a story.
I have some favorite narrators, of course, but I don’t choose books just for the narrator. I have, however, quit books because I did not like the narrator. A reader can really set the tone and influence the flow of a story.
One pet peeve is when male readers indicate a female character primarily by going all breathy. It can make a political thriller or sci fi adventure sound more like a 1-900 sex line.
Guys, I wrote a romance.
I know, I know. It surprised me too.
But it was a geeky romance, so it was easier. And, it was actually really fun! It’s a story about tabletop gamers and a convention and a desperate attempt to save a game.
I know I’ve talked about the fun and eclectic nature of story research before, but it’s worth returning to. Topics I have researched for this single short story include but are not limited to: the Devils Hole Pupfish the history of Chinese bronze casting the natural history of Kazahkstan cassowary attacks the destructive “Cultural…
One Christmas I received a t-shirt which reads, “Careful, or you’ll end up in my novel.”
It had already been repeatedly announced that our flight was 100% full, every seat sold and occupied, no upgrades, no seat swaps, and no room for everyone’s carry-ons. So there was no excuse for the guy occupying both his seat and my own, one butt cheek planted firmly on each cushion, legs spread to encompass both seats fully. He wasn’t a particularly large individual who needed extra space, and he wasn’t resting there temporarily while tucking a bag beneath the seat; he was settled and just claiming extra territory.
I’m excited to announce that my young adult action and adventure novel, The Gladiator and the Guard, is now available for purchase! This is the second book in the Krillonian Chronicles, sequel to The Collar and the Cavvarach.
Bensin, a teenage slave and martial artist, is desperate to see his little sister freed. But only victory in the Krillonian Empire’s most prestigious tournament will allow him to secretly arrange for Ellie’s escape. Dangerous people are closing in on her, however, and Bensin is running out of time. With his one hope fading quickly away, how can Bensin save Ellie from a life of slavery and abuse?
I’m sorry; I know the blog’s been a bit dead, with no updates since March. Well, I had a good reason.
I was on vacation.
And it was such a vacation. I had been planning this trip for literally a decade. Slightly longer, actually. And I finally did it.
I tried a new bookstore the other day. It was delicious. Porter Books and Bread is located on the grounds of the old Fort Harrison and features fresh-baked, homemade breads and desserts. Sandwiches are named for literary figures. I had a Dumas, if I recall correctly. (Which wasn’t…
Today’s #WIPjoy suggestion is to share a line about fear.
I often have problems with word count, so here’s not a line, but a conversation.
Share a cliffhanger? I’ll keep this short, in the spirit of #WIPjoy, but here’s Euthalia’s first day in the Norse village, beating out communication with the very few words she knows with a kind older woman.
It was fresher than the boat’s provisions, at least, as they had saved the spices and treats to bring back to the village. And Euthalia, no longer surrounded by dozens of strange male warriors, found herself relaxing enough to feel real hunger. She devoured the bread.
“Good, good,” praised Birna. She nodded. “Eat. Tomorrow, slagtoffer.”
Euthalia did not know the word. “Slag — what?”
Birna smiled, a little tightly, and drew her hand across her throat.
Well, then.
